


Hello

by PlotQueen



Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton
Genre: Anita needs a new family, Challenge Response, Edward always goes to Anita when he needs help, F/M, and this is going to hurt, awkward spontaneous engagements are awkward, even if he's about to completely screw up her evening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-01
Updated: 2004-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-14 01:03:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlotQueen/pseuds/PlotQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anita + Edward + Family = One Big Mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello

**Author's Note:**

> Challenge #1:  
> Issued by Zipps; Pre-NIC, Anita goes home to visit family alone, Edward is in town on assignment and requires help, he ends up meeting Anita’s family in an awkward manner.

I

It wasn’t that she couldn’t cook. Because she could. It was just that she didn’t. Because she really, really sucked at it. Really badly. She was the only person she knew of who could try boiling pasta—a very simple endeavor, and still come out with half of it burned, and the other half not cooked through at all.

Which would be why Anita was pouring the remains of the water down the drain with one hand while she dialed for takeout with the other. She had promised to have dinner with her family tonight, and in the spirit of filial love, had decided to try and cook something. Now she was in the despair of hoping the takeout came before they did, so that she could get it onto plates and hide the containers before anyone saw them.

She knew that for an excellent tip almost anyone would deliver to her neighborhood, despite the distance from the city. And she also knew that mentioning her name and begging worked well, along with paying twice the price of the food to have it speedily made and sent.

Once she was done with her order she concentrated on scrubbing the burnt salt from the bottom of the pot and cleaning up the crusted mess where the starchy water had boiled over onto the smooth topped stove and been burned into the surface. It was a mess and she cursed as she scratched the ceramic surface yet again.

“Fuck this,” she muttered as she threw the sponge into the sink and ran a wet rag over the stove to wipe up the last few bits of what she had scrubbed off.

She headed down the hallway, pulling her shirt over her head and dropping it into the floor as she walked through her room and to the master bath. A quick flick of the wrist had the shower spurting on and warm steam billowing out from behind the curtain as she finished stripping and stepped in, pushing her hair back and giving herself a quick scrub.

She was out and drying in less than two minutes, and had just laid her towel over the rack when she heard the doorbell ring. “That was quick,” she said in surprise as she glanced at the clock next to her bed. It had only been twenty minutes since she called, but no matter the tip she hadn’t expected them to get it there that quickly.

She grabbed her wallet and a robe, shrugging it on and tying it at her waist as she pulled the door open, counting out money, and smiling as she looked up, fistful of twenties in her outstretched hand and pleasant look on her face. The pleasant look quickly bled to blankness as she looked, not at a container laden delivery boy, but into familiar blue eyes.

“Edward,” Anita said, staring at him.

He didn’t say a word back, only shot her a tired smile and stood there, leaning against the door frame and not moving. She stared at him for a moment longer before stepping back and gesturing for him to come in. he did so without a word, and Anita wondered if there was something wrong, but didn’t say anything. She only glanced out at the empty street before closing the door.

“Is this a social visit?” she asked as casually as she could while standing there in nothing but a thin cotton robe. She smoothed her hands down the material before looking back up at him. “What’s wrong, Edward?”

He still didn’t say anything, and she narrowed her eyes at him. It was there to see if she only looked. The bloodshot eyes, the hunched way he stood there. The hand that was pressed to his side, covered in blood and dripping down his pants.

“Oh my God, what happened?” The words were very nearly lost in the sudden flurry of activity as Anita scooped up the shirt she had dropped in the hallway only ten minutes before and pressed it to his side. He groaned and moved his hand, letting her apply the pressure without protest.

“Hit went bad,” he muttered as she wound the t-shirt around his side, trying to push his own shirt out of the way and see how bad it really was.

“It’s not that bad,” he said as she finally managed to tug his shirt at the seam and rip it. “Just a cut. Hurts like hell, bleeds worse. I’ll live.”

“You came to me, Edward. It’s bad enough,” Anita said back as she ripped the shirt again so that it hung in tatters from his shoulder. One more tug and she had the entire side opened so that she could see a long, swooping slice in the flesh of his side.

It was very deep, but deep enough. The blood was more from the size, and she was relatively sure that nothing major had been damaged. He could use stitches, but would probably deny them. She knew why he’d come to her. He couldn’t risk a hospital. Which meant that he’d made the hit despite whatever had been fucked up.

She was so busy inspecting the wound that she jumped, head flying up, when the bell rang again. Edward had his Beretta pulled before she could react more, a wary look on his face. Anita only shook her head and shoved the gun down as she peeked through the peephole.

“It’s my food. Fuck, Edward, you can’t be here,” she whispered as she shoved him around a corner to the kitchen. “Just shut up until he’s gone.”

That said she opened the door, smiling brilliantly at the suddenly pale delivery man. Anita looked down at her hands and robe. They were covered in blood. She closed her eyes for a moment, sighing and counting to ten. Then opened them and continued smiling.

“I’m holding a séance,” she said brightly, her voice sounding annoyed and fake even though she was really, really trying to be cheerful.

The man didn’t say a word, just nodded and held the bags out to her. She snatched the bags and crammed a half dozen twenties into his hands before slamming the door.

“Edward, I swear to fucking God, if the police show up wanting to know who I killed, I’m handing them your body,” she said as she sat the bags down on the counter. Hard.

There was a cracking sound and she peered into the bag it had come form. “Great, just great.” She turned around and her eyes caught on Edward as she opened one of the cabinets to get a serving dish out. “Fuck, Edward. You’re bleeding in my kitchen. Go take a shower, you’ll find the kit under the sink.”

“Rough day?” he asked, voice still strained but faint humor bleeding through.

She sighed. “Shut up.”

 

By the time she had plated the food and hidden the carry out containers, the shower had stopped running. She had cleaned herself up as best she could while Edward was in the shower, and her robe was soaking in the bathroom sink in cold water. Never mind the faint silhouette she’d seen through the opaque shower curtain or the fact that, for some reason unknown to man, she’d actually thought about casually checking on him.

Anita’s jaw clenched again as she headed into her bedroom and finally did check on him. He was dressed now, kind of, a towel wrapped around his waist, dangerously low on his hips. The cut stood out in stark relief against the rest of his skin, blood beginning to seep a little, but nothing that couldn’t be stopped by some butterfly closures and a bit of gauze.

He was picking through her first aid kit looking for peroxide when she cleared her throat. “Do you need help?” she asked quietly.

He glanced up, yellow eyebrows raised. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

“Let me see,” she ordered.

Edward turned, leaning his uninjured hip against the counter and raising the opposite arm up to give her an unobstructed view. The cut was clean, the edges smooth and sealing easily together when she pressed the sides together to see if it would fit.

It would, and she dug a piece of gauze out, unwrapping it and dipping it into the Neosporin Edward already had opened. She smeared it across the edges before nimbly digging out the box of butterflies and patiently taping his side back together. When she was done she spread sterile gauze pads over it and taped them carefully, first with paper tape and then with wider cloth tape, stretching it firmly over and making sure it stuck to his skin.

“That’s going to hurt when I have to take it off later,” he commented.

She shot a glance up. “Could be worse. It could always be me taking it off.” His chuckle was cut short by the chime of the bell. Again. And then by Anita’s creative cursing.

“Close your eyes, Edward. If you peek I’ll kill you.”

The robe was dropped and she was suddenly shimmying into matching lace panties and bra, a light yellow sundress going over that and her hair being tucked behind her ears. She looked younger, and somehow more innocent and sweet. The clothes, maybe, but more likely the carefully constructed expression that would hopefully get her father and step-mother off of her back for a little bit longer.

“There’s some clothes that might fit you in the far closet,” she said as she opened the door, grimacing as the chimes peeled again. “And for God’s sake, just stay here.”

Then she was out to the front door and he was alone.

II

The clothes did fit him marginally well, Edward decided as he shrugged the white dress shirt on, leaving it open as he buttoned the jeans, careful of the new bandage on his side. It hurt, but not enough to make him notice it constantly, and besides, he was more curious about who was at her door.

Definitely not a shifter, since she didn’t seem concerned about him hiding in her bedroom. Or maybe she just didn’t care if they knew, considering she had spent five minutes letting the water run in the sink while she had stared at him through the shower curtain.

He hadn’t missed that, and was vaguely relieved that she hadn’t realized that he’d been staring back. Watching her every time she moved in her excuse of a robe, glancing at flashes of smooth, pale skin where it gaped and spread. He hadn’t been able to really say a word at first because she hadn’t even tied it securely, giving him a wondrous view of the curves of her breasts.

He pressed a hand to his side as he listened at the door, idly smoothing the tape down even though it didn’t really need it. There were voices. A man, a woman. Kids, too, he thought. Though teenagers by the sound of it, not any younger. For a moment he thought about actually listening to her, staying put, laying down on her bed and falling asleep amidst her scent.

But that would be far too easy, no matter that he knew she would keep him safe while he slept. After all, he was injured wasn’t he? A smile played at his lips at the thought of sleeping in Anita’s bed. But really, that wasn’t what he was going to do. Not a bit.

He was still smiling when his hand closed on the doorknob and twisted it, swinging the door inward in a smooth, silent arc.

 

There was no reason to panic, Anita thought as her bedroom door opened. None at all, no reason for the sudden dizziness as blood rushed from her face, or the way her eyes went wide, or her pulse sped up, or any of it. Not a single fucking reason.

Of course, there really wasn’t a reason for her bedroom door to be opening either. Not when she’d told Edward stay there, not to come out. But fuck, there he was. Barefoot, jeans, white dress shirt hanging open to show the edges of the bandage she’d layered onto him minutes ago.

“Anita,” Judith suddenly gushed, her voice shrill and nervous, but more than a bit pleased to find a seemingly normal _man_ exiting Anita’s bedroom. “Why didn’t you tell us you were dating someone new?”

Anita threw an angrily pleading glance at Edward before smiling at Judith. “Because I’m not,” she said as politely as she could while threading her way through the family and toward Edward.

 _What are you doing?!_ The words fell silent from her lips as she moved, and he only smiled.

The fear and panic across her face were enough to make Edward smile wide, and he casually slipped an arm around her shoulder. His sense of the perverse came clean into the room with that one movement and Anita’s hand shot to his, tugging at it for a moment before he managed to wind his fingers around hers and still them.

She smiled up at him, murder in her eyes. “Edward, you’re supposed to be resting,” she said through clenched teeth.

He shrugged, raising one eyebrow at her family. “Wasn’t tired. Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

She jerked away suddenly and he bit back the hissing gasp of pain when she tugged skin from tape. “Judith, Dad, Andrea, Josh. This is Edward.”

Too late she realized that she hadn’t introduced him as Ted, but he was already bowing charmingly over Judith’s hand, shaking her father’s, blithely ignoring the curiosity from her siblings. He didn’t quite ignore the glare from her father; that would have been impossible.

Of course her father knew she wasn’t a virgin, but he didn’t need it shoved in his face. Especially when she wasn’t fucking Edward. She ground her teeth and closed her eyes in an effort to block the image of his body form her mind. There was absolutely no sense in thinking of it, and no one cared if she never had sex again. Much less that she’d been celibate since… long before Santa Fe.

And that had been almost two years ago.

Fuck.

She was setting the dishes of food on the table when it happened. Her sharp ears heard her brother’s first, as far as she knew, and please God let it be, swear word. And in front of her father.

“So, are you fucking my sister?”

The expensive takeout, a lovely pork loin, pre-sliced, and the glass serving dish both fell to the floor. Glass danced across the tiles and juice splattered. Pork slices stuck to the floor, slivers slicing off with the plate to create a big mess that she would have to clean later.

After she killed her brother. And her father killed them both. And probably Edward for good measure.

She’d made it around the corner and very nearly had managed to stop Edward from saying something. But his eyes were dancing pools of blue when he looked up at her before saying a word. Knowing full well what he was doing, and doing it anyway just to torture her.

“Anita doesn’t believe in sex before marriage,” he said pleasantly.

She breathed again. For a moment. Then he winked.

“That’s why we’re engaged.”

He smiled at her, smirking and grinning as her family turned to maul her.

III

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you were you stand.”

Dinner had been a complete disaster, from the broken plate and dropped food right down to her father interrogating Edward as the new father of the bride. Anita had tolerated it to a point, until she finally lost her temper and kicked her family out.

And made it worse by letting Edward stay. But if she sent him out the way he was it could be a lot worse for him than any of it for her. Besides, payback was a bitch, and so was she. Edward deserved a little bit of the revenge she planned top dish out. Especially after making her family think that they were engaged.

“Because I’m already injured?” he offered from where he leaned against the wall.

The shirt was still hanging open, offering glimpses of the white bandage when he moved, and smooth, firm tanned flesh no matter what he did. Anita’s jaw clenched as she averted her eyes yet again. It was like he was doing it on purpose, just letting it all hang out so that she would drown in a puddle of her own drool every time she looked at him.

“Fuck. Edward. Get out. Go do something else, just get out of my kitchen,” she exclaimed as she threw the last of the dishes in the sink. “You’re fucking distracting me.”

He held his hands up, nonplussed. “If you say so,” he said with a shrug as he sidled around the wall and disappeared from sight. Moments later she heard the television flicker into life, some loud movie being hurriedly lowered and the squeak of springs as he settled into the couch.

Squeak. Springs.

“Oh, God,” she muttered as she began stacking plates in the dishwasher.

When she finished cleaning the kitchen up, right down to the splattered juice decorating her blinds, she thought that maybe, just maybe she could keep herself under control. That maybe she could ignore her hormones long enough to pay Edward back and send him on his way.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t counted on walking into her living room to find him sprawled bonelessly across the couch. The dress shirt was gaping open leaving one side of his chest in plain sight, the other hidden away and the pretty white bandage with it. His feet were propped on the end, his head tilted back on a cushion he had stuffed under his head.

His mouth was open just a little. Enough for her to see the edges of gleaming white teeth. His eyes were closed, bronzed lashes standing out from the pale of his cheeks, shining against the dark shadows under his eyes. She sighed, all thoughts of retribution gone from her head.

“Fuck, Edward,” she muttered.

Kneeling next to him she dug the remote out from under him, squeezing her hand under the small of his back to grab it and pull it out. The house was suddenly deafeningly quiet as the television cut off, and she realized that she could hear a faint snore coming from him.

She laughed.

She hadn’t meant to, she really hadn’t. And she was sure that Edward didn’t mean to grab her and push her down to the floor when he bolted upright at the noise. Anita was more than sure, because the fear on his face, the mostly asleep blankness in his eyes, was something that couldn’t be feigned.

No, when he held her down and spread his very warm, very hard body on top of hers, he was only reacting. But when _she_ opened her mouth and moaned ever so slightly, when her legs fell apart just that much to accommodate him between them, when the very fabric of her intelligence misted over in hazy lust…

She was only reacting.

 

The noise, the movement, the smooth acceptance of her body to his woke him more quickly and much more thoroughly than he would ever have wanted. To have Anita, _his_ Anita laid out beneath him, eyes begging him to take her, legs nearly wrapped around him and pulling him closer, it was only natural that he would respond.

So it wasn’t Edward’s fault when he was suddenly harder than he’d ever been before, and it really wasn’t his fault when he lowered his mouth to skim across her throat, or moved up a little bit to capture her mouth with his. He would have stopped, except she sighed, and kissed him back, like she’d been waiting for it forever.

When he let go of her, stopped holding her down like she was the enemy, he was surprised that her hands moved smoothly up his sides to curve around his back and hold him to her as they kissed. He was even more surprised to find her hands sliding underneath the shirt she had loaned him to dance lightly across his skin.

But it compared to nothing when her head fell back and he nibbled at her throat, and skimmed his hands up her thighs and under the dress, and she whispered his name. “Edward,” she whispered in a voice so soft and, dare he think it?, _erotic_ , that he very nearly ripped their clothes off and took right then and there.

But he didn’t. Because then it would be his fault. And if he slept with Anita, it would be something that she wanted just as much as him. And that was why his heart stopped beating. Because when he stopped moving, stopped touching her, she opened her eyes and looked straight at him.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered. There was a distinct pause while he tried to remember how to breathe, and then she smiled. “How about moving this to the bed?”

IV

There really was no turning back once a certain point was reached, Anita decided as she slipped the straps of the dress and let it pool at her feet. Edward was sitting on the edge of her bed, still looking tired, but alert and smiling, wearing not much more than that smile and the jeans.

The shirt was in a pile on the floor near his feet, and she kicked the dress over to it before taking a step forward so that she was standing between his legs. His arms came up behind her, wrapping around her and pulling her closer. Anita smiled as she lowered her face to his and kissed him as his fingers nimbly worked the clasp of her bra.

There were two, maybe three seconds, before he had it off. No longer, certainly, before his mouth closed over one breast, lips sealing to her skin and tongue and teeth playing across her nipple. She moaned softly, eyes slipping closed and head titling back ever so slightly.

The moment she had her throat bared he was up, standing above her while she fell down to the bed from the sudden change in position, her breath gasping out and a startled smile flying across her face. Then his hands were at her waist, tugging her to the edge of the bed while his mouth devoured hers, tongue swirling in and out, his breathing fast and hitching like he’d rather kiss her than pause for air.

The very thought sent heat shooting down her spine and pooling low in her belly, making her moan and writhe underneath him. Her hands fumbled with the button on the jeans and she cursed when she couldn’t quite get it undone.

He chuckled low in his throat as he pushed her hands back, stilling her with another kiss while he undid the button and the fly. She thought, for a moment, that maybe she should be surprised that the only thing under the jeans was lean, tanned skin. But then, it was Edward. Could she really expect anything less than that?

Her fingers shot out and wrapped around his already hard shaft, and it pulsed heatedly as he groaned. “Not yet, Anita. I’m not ready for this to be over with yet,” he muttered as he pulled her hands away and pushed her back, fingers tightening around her wrists as he held them tight over her head.

With a possessive growl he kissed her again, her lips, her jaw, her throat. He paused for a moment and let his teeth sink in slightly, lapping at the reddened depressions when he let go before moving lower. It was terribly good luck that he had long arms, or he never would have been able to hold her still, or as still as possible, while he lavished attention on first one breast and then the other.

But he did, and he could, forcing himself to ignore the tremors and desires running rampant in his own body. But he had decided from the very first, that if he was doing this, he was doing it his way. His way, not hers. Unless she decided she wanted a repeat performance.

Of course, if the chemistry they were making now was anything to go by, a repeat performance would be inevitable.

Truly inevitable, he decided as he gave a sharp pull to one side of her panties, splitting them along a seam. “Hope you weren’t too attached,” he whispered as pressed a kiss to her breast and let her hands go.

He moved down, pulling the scraps of white cotton away from her pale skin to reveal neatly trimmed black hair, and the wetness just seeping through the curls. He flickered a glance up at her, a half smile, before sliding his mouth over her, tongue seeking the hard little nub of her clitoris, and giving it a hard flick when finding it.

Her legs fell apart, completely lax as she arched her back and moaned as he did it again. His fingers were sliding into her then, and she was whimpering as he took her to the edge and refused to let her come. Because he had decided that no matter what, he wanted her to come while he was buried inside her.

He wanted to feel her hot, wet throbbing around him as drove into her, making her scream his name and claw his back and feel like she was flying and dying all at the same time. One of her hands tangled in his hair, jerking sharply when he denied her release yet again, and he pulled back, wincing as a few strands came out and remained wrapped around her slender fingers.

“Play nice,” he muttered as he grabbed her hands and forced them down, climbing up to the bed and nudging himself firmly into the space between her legs.

“Edward,” she moaned, letting his name slide out and dangle at the end of her plea. “ _You_ play nice.”

He smiled, kissed her, let her taste herself on his mouth, lips, tongue. Then he gave a very gentle push, sliding fluidly into her and burying his face into the curve of her neck. Imprisonment was forgotten as he wrapped his arms around her, mouth seeking hers as he thrust steadily into her.

Her arms wrapped delicately around him before holding hard, fingers clenching, scraping, trying not to hurt him. He pulled her closer, pushing her hair back with one hand and looking into her dark eyes. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

He thrust hard at the first dig of nails, sure that she broken the skin, and reveling in the uncontrolled scream she gave as her head fell back when she came. Harder every time her hands grabbed onto him, every time she moaned, screamed, said his name, begged him to fuck her, just fuck, please Edward, I want you.

It was when she said that, followed by the desperate kiss she pressed to his temple as he trembled, feeling her ready to come again, the painful tightening at his own groin, her voice so soft he nearly missed it saying, “I need you, Edward, please.”

One last thrust as he came, harder than he’d ever come before, not even any of the times he’d come to thoughts of her riding him, writhing underneath him, her mouth wrapped around him. Because it was really _her_ this time, and not some figment of a fantasy.

And her name ripped from his throat in one long, low, ragged whisper.

 

Sometime a few years later he rolled off of her, out of her, and pulled her to lay next to him with her head on his shoulder and a leg strewn across him. “Please tell me you’re on birth control.”

There was silence for another few years before she finally answered. “I was, a couple years ago. Back when I was actually seeing men in my bed.”

“Oh.”

She rolled to the side and opened her nightstand drawer, rummaging through it before slamming it shut and settling back into the curve of his arm. A string of packets dropped onto his chest, and he picked them up, laughing. There were seven condoms in a row. It really was too funny.

“I figure they’ll last till the morning,” she said drowsily. “Then we’ll have to buy more, or I’ll have to get a new prescription for birth control.”

Confused silence reigned. Then, “How many more times are you planning on having sex with me, Anita?”

She sniffed. It sounded haughty and offended as she sat up and flicked the bedside lamp on. “Quite a few, I’ll have you know. We’re engaged, remember?”

He closed his eyes and mentally kicked himself. “Okay, I’m sorry. It was a bad joke.”

“I guess it’ll be a long engagement,” she added softly as she turned the light back off and settled back down with him.

“A long engagement?”

“Couple years, at least.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Edward?”

“Hmm?”

“You still have to get me a ring.”


End file.
